


Anhelo

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Rimming, Violence, commission, powerbottom genji, reaper being reaper, smoke tendril fucking, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just another mission, right up until it wasn't.</p><p>(Sequel to Deseo)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anhelo

**Author's Note:**

> commission fic for destron-destroyer. i hope you enjoy this and thank you again for the patronage!!
> 
> this is technically a sequel to my other fic Deseo, but you'll probably be fine reading this alone.

There wasn’t much to say when Genji looked down on the uncaring city, watching the congregated masses churn and froth as they jostled each other in hopes of getting closer to the speaker inciting their mania. It was a breeding ground of mayhem, and Genji was on call, waiting for the inevitable ball to drop and send them all screaming.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Like clockwork, the tower beside him erupted into gunfire aimed at the stage. People began to scream and panic, running for cover as the security agents did their best to protect the speaker. The comlink in his ear buzzed to life and Genji stood, ready.

“Overwatch, move out!” roared Winston, followed by half a dozen cries of the same as the team streamed out onto the street from their myriad hiding places. “Tracer, Zenyatta, get on crowd control! Genji, get to the assassins! All else, fan out and protect the asset!”

“Understood,” he said, already moving to the tower as fast as he could. Gunshots still sounded and he put on an extra burst of speed to beat the fire before it could disappear. He made no sound as he moved, clinging and jumping from the eaves and vaulted roofs.

His training was tested when he peeked around a corner and saw the assassin near the railing, one leg up on the ledge for added support as he fired relentlessly into the crowd below. The screams, though far below them, were loud and fear-drenched. Through it all, Genji heard the man laughing, drinking in the mayhem like it was his just due.

With the way he was positioned, it would be hard to sneak up on him. There were no breaks in the roof to provide cover, no convenient vents or air conditioning units to hide behind as he stalked. Genji put a hand to his sword hilt and bit his lip, his mind flickering between speed or stealth, a surprise assault or an assassination. When the opponent had guns, he was always better off striking at as close a range as possible.

Carefully, he turned the corner and slowed his breathing, letting himself melt into the background as he slowly approached. His footfalls were silent, the lights on his armor dimming with his imperceptible breathing. The blade eased from the sheath with no more than a whisper, and Genji readied himself to plunge it into the figure’s spine.

He drew back his hands and sliced down the broad back as hard as he could, only somewhat in awe at how truly huge the man was. The gunfire ceased immediately and the man let out a choked cry, his weight falling forward. Genji leaped back, just in case, and watched as the leg on the ledge kept the man braced.

“Target eliminated,” he said proudly to the comlink, moving to sheath his sword. The brilliant silver and green shone brightly in the light that filtered up from the street, the blood looking as black as night.

Genji froze though as he took a closer look. There was no red at all, no matter how he turned the blade to catch the light. Black ink clung to the honed edge and Genji nearly dropped the sword when it began to move like mist, wispy and clinging like fog over a lake.

It was then that the laughter started, chilling Genji’s blood to ice.

The man he had thought dead began to move, standing back upright as if he had never been cut at all. Before his eyes, the sliced back knit together as more inky shadow issued from the wound. “What?” he asked, taking another step back when the figure’s shoulders rose and fell with his demonic laughter.

“You thought you could kill me?” the man asked, and Genji readied his blade when he saw the hands tighten on the guns.

Bulky, massive, and standing like death himself, the assassin turned as he threw down his empty guns, pulling two more from his holsters. “You can’t kill what’s already dead!” the man growled charging forward at him, guns raised. “DIE!”

Genji leaped back, blade drawn, deflecting all that came at him. “I am engaged with the assassin,” he bit out to the earpiece still transmitting his audio to the team. “I repeat, target is not dead yet.”

“You are dead!” the man spat, hearing him. He moved like a tank, slow but unstoppable, unflinching in the face of the shuriken Genji was able to lob in between moments of gunfire. Where they hit, smoke-like fog emanated from the assassin’s body.

“Who is it?” Winston shouted over whatever combat he was seeing on the ground. “Genji, do you know?”

There was something so familiar in the way he moved. Genji dodged yet another volley of bullets, deflecting the last ten or so towards the assassin. With the distance it bought him, he scaled the closest building, watching the shadowy, demonic like fog emanate and condense until his opponent was completely obscured.

“It’s Reaper,” he managed to say, knowing from the smoke alone the identity of this particular Talon operative. He’d never encountered him before, but the descriptions from other Overwatch agents always said the same thing; a massive, cloaked figure like death, issuing smoke like a monster.

What on earth was that anyway? Genji climbed higher to get a better vantage point, registering that the shadowy mass was following him quickly. That wasn’t human. Humans couldn’t do that, but the nagging feeling of familiarity wouldn’t abate.

“Come back here and face me,” the assassin snarled, more of the inhuman darkness threading through the voice like ink. “You can’t outrun death.”

Genji didn’t bother replying, too busy tearing across the rooftops to get to a place that would give him an advantage. Sure, he had speed in spades on this demon, but when the assassin could dissipate like smoke at will, there was no chance for a killing strike to land. As skilled as he was, he wasn’t confident that he could slice through shadow itself.

“Genji! Do not engage!” Winston shouted in his ear, and Genji hit the mute button, the voice more a distraction than any sort of boon. He’d deal with the fallout of that later, after he took care of this assassin.

He settled on climbing up a balcony to reach the roof of an apartment building, one that was blissfully covered with constructions large enough to hide behind. Genji raced past most, skidding to a stop behind a large radiator just as Reaper reached the rooftop, oozing smoke and bullets with every step he took.

“Come out, little kitten,” the man crooned, his voice so rough that it sounded like a demon calling.

Heavy footfalls marked his path through the scattered obstacles and Genji closed his eyes, letting his senses tell him where he was and what direction he was likely to strike. He set his sword down beside him and drew his shuriken.

If this were Reaper, Overwatch would want him alive if possible. There was no telling how much information he could provide should they get him talking.

Genji held his breath and then exhaled, lobbing a shuriken to the far wall with a dull thunk.

Ice flowed down his spine when Reaper laughed, so close he could nearly feel it like a cold breeze. Genji looked up and Reaper’s masked face looked back, the man standing right over him, a gun aimed at Genji’s helmet.

“Did you think that would trick me?” he asked, the humor obvious in his voice. “Did you think I would go chasing the sound and let you have another go at my back? You ninja’s are so predictable.”

“Are we?” Genji said, dropping the smoke bomb he had concealed in his hand. He threw himself to the side, barely missing the kiss of the gunfire that peppered the ground where he had sat. Reaper cursed as rapidly as he fired, shooting blindly into the smoke as Genji looped around.

It was child’s play after that. His shuriken flew through the air as silent as his footfalls, connecting with a meaty sound that told him he had hit. Reaper grunted as each struck, two in either leg, one in his ribs, and another through his right hand.

The moment he heard the gun clatter to the ground, Genji threw himself at the man, unbalancing him enough that they both crashed to the rooftop. Genji wasted no time in fighting fair, given his considerably smaller build and the inhuman aspects of his opponent. He laid a strike to the wounded ribs and wrestled the other gun away when Reaper’s grip loosened from the pain.

Once he was disarmed, Genji set himself to subduing him, something considerably harder given his skillset and size. With no other option, Genji used his thighs to choke the man out, hitting his ribs every time he tried to make a grab for him to throw him off.

When he felt the man begin to go lax, he held on for another few seconds just to make sure before deigning to release his hold. He made a fist and punched the shuriken lodged in the man’s hand, effectively pinning it to the floor like one would do to a butterfly. Reaper thrashed viciously through the oxygen deprivation, but Genji simply repeated the same motion with his left hand, pulling another star from his supply and forcing it, and the hand, into the floor.

Just as he was about to reach for his comlink and report in, Reaper began to struggle anew. “Stay still!” Genji ordered, giving up on hitting his ribs and just going for more shuriken to stab through the man’s arms. “You’ve lost and you’re coming with me,” he grated, punching a few more holes in him until Reaper could no longer move his arms at all.

He quickly came to realize that containing Reaper was like trying to hold onto a raging bull.

“You can’t do anything to me,” he spat, roaring as he fought the pain of trying to physically rip himself free from the blades. “Overwatch can’t do anything. You can’t kill me.”

“I can hurt you more,” he threatened, twisting a shuriken to mutilate the muscle of his shoulder. “I can cut you into pieces until you behave.”

“Pain means nothing,” Reaper hissed, thrashing against the bladed weapons, nearly tearing himself to shreds. A single hand managed to free itself, and Genji brought his own up to block a blow that never came. He looked down, shocked, when the massive hand fixed itself to his hip, forcing him down to grind against the man’s groin.

“What?” he gasped, the familiarity finally clicking into place with a sound that was almost audible over the sharp intake of breath.

“You’re still as deadly as always,” the man groaned, throwing his head back when Genji’s thigh fell between his muscled legs. “Join me, let me finally have you.”

“Reyes? Is that you?” Genji didn’t know how to feel, the confusion, anger, and betrayal all warring it out inside him to culminate into something not quite rational. “You’re alive?” he settled, glaring through his helmet. “You’re alive and you’re working for Talon?”

Reaper groaned lowly when he sunk his metal fingers into his thighs, holding them down so he couldn’t grind against him. “With Talon,” he corrected, as if that made it any better. “You could be too. Overwatch is dead and gone, with the weaklings clinging still to the carcass of what it once was. Join me, and we can make our own path.”

Through the idiotic mask, Genji couldn’t tell if he were sincerely trying to sell him on this or just trying to distract him to make an escape. He settled on jabbing another shuriken into the man’s freed hand, pinning it to the rooftop. “Traitor,” he said, punctuating the pained yelp with a punch to his broad chest. “We thought you died!”

“I am dead. I am Death,” Reaper intoned, but Genji was done with his blustering. Through it all, he had never stopped trying to get Genji to touch him.

If he wanted touched so bad, he’d get it. There were more ways to pacify a man than through pain.

Genji took Reaper by the throat and slammed his head back into the ground, his other hand going for the man’s crotch. He rolled his eyes beneath his visor, feeling that he was indeed hard in his trousers. “You’re an asshole,” he groused, working him roughly. “You kill those you once protected. You don’t deserve me, and you’ll never have me.”

Reaper moaned like he was dying, rolling his hips into the touch, no matter how vicious Genji was with him. “Take me out,” he hissed, again thrashing hard enough to rip at the weapons holding him down. “Let me feel you, _mi putita._ ”

Genji glared and twisted with his wrist, making the man choke. “You don’t get to call me that anymore,” he informed, his voice as hard as tempered steel. He hadn’t approved when McCree had told him what it meant, and he certainly didn’t approve now, after all that had happened. “You don’t get to give me orders. I told you last time-” he leaned down, so his voice was against the man’s hidden ear, -“you don’t control me.”

If he expected some more resistance, he didn’t get it. Reaper melted into it, obediently going lax with a whine as if to ask him for forgiveness. Genji teased him some more, just to make sure the lesson stuck, before wrestling with the pants and their hidden clasp.

“Please,” Reaper begged, turning his masked face to the side. His hips arched and his body trembled. Cool air met his skin, making him hiss out another moan.

Genji’s hand froze the moment he took in the state of Reaper’s bare flesh.

“Why do you look like this?” Genji asked, his voice so small as he stared down at the mottled skin. He remembered what Reyes had looked like, his skin so rich and dark. This looked anything but that. Of the flesh he could see, it was colored a bloodless grey that resembled that of a corpse more than the pristine specimen he remembered Reyes to be.

“Dying ruins everyone,” he sighed, turning his face away though he was still hidden behind his mask. “I am decaying but regenerating. This is all I am.”

Genji didn’t pretend to understand. Topics like biology and science were more Dr. Ziegler or Winston’s specialty, not his. Regardless, he could tell that whatever had happened to him had been traumatic.

“Does it hurt?” With careful fingers, he reached for the hard cock, nervous to touch even though he had just been working him relentlessly through the thick trousers.

“Pain is all I have now,” Reaper sighed, rolling up to meet his hand when Genji continued to hesitate. “It’s been so long—”

He moaned like a man dying when Genji finally took him in hand again, melting into the rooftop. Genji frowned behind his visor, some of his vitriol quelled by the state of the man he had once tentatively called a friend, a comrade. He was so touch starved, begging for any scraps Genji would give him, be they cruel or otherwise.

It would be a lie to say that it didn’t remind Genji of himself, after he found himself in his new body.

He looked at the section of the roof next to Reaper’s hip. His eyes averted, he stroked him, hating himself only a little for extending the same tolerance to him that Reyes had shown Genji the first time they had come together like this.

“Does this feel good?” he found himself asking, his voice quiet in the night air between them. Precum beaded at the head and he played with it in his fingers, smoothing it down the shaft to ease the movement of his hand.

Reaper hissed a little, his muscular thighs shaking a bit beneath Genji’s touch. “It feels so good,” he answered, a raw note of honesty cutting through his words. “Don’t stop.”

Though he sounded appreciative, Genji didn’t like the command. He went slower, using only his fingertips to trail along the thick cock until Reaper was a veritable mess beneath him. His body shook and he tossed his head, trying his damnedest to thrust his hips up to chase the withholding hand.

It kept on like that for a few minutes until Reaper slowly learned that for every impatient buck he made, Genji slowed down that much more. Passivity eased through him slowly, his body going lax and his insistent rolls stilling.

“Please,” he tried instead, his head lolling on the rooftop, unable to watch. “Please, Genji, I need it.”

Genji was getting a bit hot himself, and he answered by removing his hand completely, letting it fall to the latch on his hip that held his armor closed.

“What do you need?” he asked, a little breathless as the cool night air touched his skin.

“You,” the man gasped, tearing at the weapons as if he wanted nothing more than to rip through them and grab Genji. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

The admittance was so honest, so blatantly needy that Genji’s head swam, his cheeks stained with a blush beneath his visor. “Well, if that’s all,” he sighed, touching himself a little as he thought. He had the man at his mercy, so the possibilities of what to do next were endless.

An idea came to him gradually and Genji couldn’t resist acting on it. He straddled Reaper’s hips and rubbed the dripping cock against his thighs and ass, grinding down until he too was throwing back his head, moaning. Everything felt so hot, so blissfully, wonderfully hot, and he drank it all in, resting his hands against the massive chest to give himself some leverage.

He wanted it. He wanted Reaper inside him. He couldn’t stop thinking of the time from before, all those years ago, when Reyes and McCree had split him in half, filling him so completely that he felt he would never need anything else. For one wild moment, he almost threw caution to the wind. It took conscious effort to stop from impaling himself on the cock head teasing his entrance.

There would be time for that later, he told himself. He had to be smart about this.

“Have you got a face under that mask or just more smoke?” Genji asked, rolling his scarred skin teasingly against the hard, leaking cock. “I remember that mouth. I want to use it.”

Reaper couldn’t quite manage words, but he managed a ragged nod. Genji tore free the owl mask and threw it to the side, looking into a face that was grey and sallow. His eyes were the same though, midnight black and dark enough to drown in, begging him for more when his mouth failed to make the words.

Genji told himself that there was a practical reason why he was putting his most delicate parts within biting range of one of Overwatch’s most notorious enemies. He had no lube and he doubted Reaper did either, and he wasn’t about to settle for gun oil or going in dry. Situating himself over the man’s face in a way all too similar to how he had just choked him out, he lowered himself to the waiting mouth. He threw back his head immediately, lost in the skillful hot and wet press of a tongue to his ass.

There were logical, well-thought out reasons for doing this, but underlying them all was the burning desire to ride the mouth that had occupied his fantasies ever since that first fuck in the warehouse, so many years ago.

His memories paled in comparison to the real thing.

Reaper was obviously hungry for the contact, and even without his hands, he held Genji in thrall by his consummate skill. He licked with long, hot passes, flicking the tip of his tongue to his entrance until Genji was chasing it for more. Electricity raced along his spine and steam issued from his shoulder vents, struggling to keep up with the heat building in his body.

It was only somewhat disconcerting to watch the shadowy tendrils lick up his thighs, their weightless presence creeping higher and higher like ivy seeking the sun. Genji gasped when they curled around his crotch, cool, smoky vines wrapping around his cock to work him in time to Reaper’s tongue.

“What is this?” he gasped, trembling a bit as his cock was covered completely in the inky, formless haze.

Humid breath hit his inner thigh, Reaper smiling against his skin in a way so familiar. “The darkness,” he growled, sinking sharp teeth into Genji’s flesh to make him jump. “It wants you. It looks so good on you.”

Sensing him getting a bit too cocky, Genji moved his fingers to Reaper’s hair, forcing his face back to task with a jerk. “Your mouth is better at pleasuring me than speaking,” Genji said, shivering as the combined assault nearly sent him over. He pulled him back off, just before he came. “Don’t speak again until I say you can.”

To his surprise, Reaper was all too willing to comply, be it from the fear of Genji leaving or simply from his pent up need to be touched and used in any capacity. He waited patiently as Genji eased away from his face, dipping his own fingers into his wet entrance to test how stretched he was. Eyes hot and expression hungry, he was the perfect sort of audience as Genji fingered himself open, readying himself to take the man’s waiting cock.

“You look like you want to say something,” he laughed, breathless as he worked his fingers in and out, the saliva making him into a dripping mess.

Reaper opened his mouth, but Genji slapped his hand over it, stopping him before he could say a single syllable.

He clicked his tongue and tapped the flushed cheek, the excitement giving the man’s face the veneer of life. “Resist the urge. I don’t actually want you to speak.” Genji pulled his fingers free with a moan and used the rest of the wetness on them to slick Reaper’s cock.

It’d been awhile since he last had something inside him, something more than his own fingers, and he savored the feeling of taking it in almost as much as he did the look on Reaper’s face. The man must have gone without a friendly touch for years given the way he shook, his black eyes rolling up in his head as Genji slowly slid down.

Inch by inch by stretching inch, Genji took until he could take no more. The man below him was a mess of tremors and sweat, his chest heaving as he struggled to take in air. Genji moaned lowly, giving himself all the time he needed to adjust. He told himself it was to tease, but in all reality, Reaper looked ready to cum just from the feeling alone.

The break was for himself as much as it was for him, and he only started to rock when he felt Reaper was ready for it.

“Yes,” he let out, his breath a whisper of a sigh as he tested the feeling, holding Reaper down with his hands to keep him from moving them along too quickly. “You feel so hot, like fire.”

If Reaper wanted to reply, he didn’t, too busy taking in copious amounts of air the more Genji began to move. Though his upper body was pinned in place, his legs were still free to move, and he took advantage of his strong thighs to buck. Genji bounced in his lap, meeting him for every thrust he made, and before long, he was bent over the assassin’s chest, riding him wildly.

He almost regretted denying the man his hands, if only so he could be held and touched while they were like this. Genji compensated by touching himself, one hand wrapping around his own cock while the other clenched in the thick fabric of Reaper’s cloak. He’s breathing came quicker when he looked at the man’s face, seeing it lax with pleasure and the awe that always seemed to permeate their interactions.

That hadn’t changed at least, his all-encompassing appreciation for anything Genji did.

“You adore me, don’t you?” he asked, unable to resist the opportunity to be praised while like this. “You look like you’re tasting heaven.”

Reaper growled low in his chest, deeply enough that Genji felt the sound more than heard it. “You’re so deadly,” he moaned through grit teeth, perspiration dotting his forehead. “Such a cocktease. I want you with me, Genji.”

Genji shuddered at that, closing his eyes behind his visor as another wave of desire rolled through him. Not many outside of Overwatch appreciated him, but Reyes alone made up the difference from sheer intensity alone.

He rewarded the man with a twist of his hips, coming down on his cock with a vicious little spin that made Genji throw his head back. “You’re still on that?” he asked, though he really didn’t have the breath left for conversation. “You can’t have me. No one can have me.”

“I will,” Reaper insisted, planting his feet solidly to ram up into Genji. “Death claims all in the end.”

Genji moaned and rocked, his thighs burning when he forced himself to go faster, chasing the pleasure building in the base of his spine. This felt so good, just like it had all those years ago. Broken and changed as he was, Reyes was still the same like this, terrible lines included. He still felt thick and solid and unbreakable. It was heady and, though he knew the present wouldn’t allow for it, Genji felt the overwhelming desire to stay like this forever.

“I’m close,” Reaper groaned, his pace growing unmeasured and hectic. He closed his eyes and urged him faster, blind to whether or not Genji was near his own end. “Come on, come on,” he ordered, “just a little more.”

At that, Genji stopped moving completely.

“You aren’t allowed,” he gasped, his breathing wrecked and his shoulders hitching when Reaper still tried to move. “You can’t cum until I say you can.”

Reaper snarled like an animal and bucked like an angry bull, nearly tearing himself to pieces to try and get the stimulation he was being denied.

Genji simply clapped a hand around his throat, holding him down like a disobedient dog until he stilled. “You’re my prisoner,” he whispered, leaning forward with a mind-numbing slowness that dragged the cock out until only the head remained inside. “You’re going to do as I say.”

Black, pleasure-blown eyes stared up at him. As seconds crept by with no further movement, Reaper began to relax, his breathing evening out and his thrashing melting away into tense expectancy. “Please move,” he groaned, leaning into the hand that slid from his neck to his cheek.

“Can you last if I move?”

“Yes.”

“Do you promise?” He bit his lip and shifted an inch, his own need hard to ignore.

Reaper looked up at him, his smoke tendrils easing out and wrapping around his thighs again. “I promise,” he snarled, and Genji found he couldn’t deny him any longer even if he wanted to. The smoke, though weightless, held him like hands, lifting and rocking him until the building stimulation had him searching for more too.

True to his word, Reaper held out longer than Genji did. A column of inky smoke wrapped around his cock to stroke him in time to the frenetic pace. He clenched his fingers in the thick cloak and shuddered, clenching down viciously in response. But, despite his best efforts, he came a moment later.

“Oh, _dios mio,_ ” Reaper moaned, his eyes rolling back as he put his thighs to work, fucking up as hard as he could into Genji’s tight body. When he came, he did so messily, filling Genji with his cum until he slipped out. What wasn’t inside him coated his thighs and abdomen. He could barely think about the logistics of clean up though. Every nerve in his body sang from the release, and Reaper was so warm below him.

Genji collapsed onto his chest, his breathing so ragged that his internal sensors were growing alarmed. Reaper wasn’t in much better condition. His chest rose and fell rapidly, fighting to keep up with his body’s growing need for oxygen. A flicker of guilt passed through him. It couldn’t be easy, trying to breathe with his heavy weight pressing down on his lungs.

The moment he tried to push off though, he was met with a vehement sound of displeasure. Reaper made a grab for him, finally ripping through the shuriken in his arms. “Don’t,” he merely said, more pleading than Genji thought he intended it to be.

He didn’t have the willpower to move anyway. Genji fell back down on his chest, letting the thick arms pull him close and stroke down his back, feeling for himself how much Genji had changed and how much still remained the same. He wrapped his own arms around Reaper’s neck. This warmth at least was familiar, no matter how much of Reyes’s body had altered.

“You’re so beautiful, so deadly,” he heard him say, his fingers dancing along his messy hips. “I don’t think I could ever stop wanting you at my side.”

Genji frowned a little, holding him tighter. “You mean under your command,” he corrected.

“I mean what I say.” The hands dug in harder, enough to feel through the metal armor. “We could be great together. No one would ever see us coming.”

“No one ever expects a traitor. No one would expect someone close to them to turn on them.” He didn’t say it with fondness. Genji swallowed the bitterness on his tongue.

A muscled thigh pressed between his legs, rubbing teasingly at his groin until Genji was breathless. “You want me too. I know you do. Come with me, Genji. Let me have you.”

Genji’s hands tightened in the thick fabric of his coat, a moan building in his throat. He couldn’t help but ride the thigh, Reaper so large and firm that he felt like a solid wall of warm, enticing muscle. “I can’t,” he whispered, burying his face in his neck. “I can’t abandon them all.”

Reaper growled possessively, his hands going to Genji’s hips to grind him down on his leg with increasing speed. His smoke curled over him, chilling where his touch burned, a sheer contrast that sent Genji crying out into the night air. “You’re so good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You just need to let the darkness in. Once you get a taste, you won’t ever look back.”

“You sound like an idiot,” Genji whined, feeling the cold shadow flicker against his messy entrance. He arched into it, begging it to fuck inside him.

“You sound like a _putita_ ,” and with little warning, Reaper forced the tendrils in, spearing Genji with unerring accuracy. He barely had time to play with him. Within half a minute, Genji was overcome, his release tearing through him and covering Reaper’s thigh with cum.

Reduced to a shaking mess, Genji gasped and issued forth steam, the vapor mixing with the shadows oozing off the man until they were nearly hidden from each other through the cloud. His body was a wrecked bundle of overwrought nerves, his limbs shaking. The arms around him held him closer, Reaper kissing his helmet in a way that was almost sweet.

“I missed you. I missed this,” he breathed, nearly too soft to hear. Missed him? Missed being touched? Genji couldn’t tell, but in either case, he latched onto it.

Genji gasped for breath, pushing past his exhaustion to cling to him tighter. “Then don’t leave,” he said. It was his turn to beg. “Please, Gabriel. Don’t leave. Come back.” They all missed him. Don’t make him carry home the news alone. Not if it was only to be followed by _and then he got away._

Reaper turned his head away, his hand coming up to Genji’s neck to force his face into his chest. “It’s too late for me,” he intoned, his voice as somber as a funeral.

“It’s not,” he pleaded, curling into him like a lifeline. “Just come back with me. We can go back together. If you really want me, you’ll stay with me. Come with me.”

Cold traced over his body, its nearly imperceptible weight just enough to tell him that he was about to phase away. The grip on his neck pressed tight, the other hand reaching off to the side to grab at the mask.

“No!” Genji hissed, trying his damnedest to hold on to the rapidly dissipating cloak. “Don’t you dare leave!”

Not again. Not now, when he knew he was alive.

But his demands did nothing. Reaper turned to smoke between his fingers, streaming away in a cloud of smoke as if he had never been there to begin with.

Genji fell to the rooftop, no more support beneath him. His thighs trembled, hardly able to support his weight. Cooling cum trickled down his inner thighs, dripping onto the tile and wood below. It was almost funny, he thought, that after Reaper had left, that at least still remained.

He looked up, watching the blur of smoke race away, through the night sky like a cloud of pestilence. Genji’s shoulders shook, his body a mess of aches and bruises. Looking away, he lay on the cold, hard rooftop and waited for his muscles to recover enough to try moving.

It was then that he noticed his comlink vibrating, unhappy at being muted and full of his team’s chatter. With a groan, Genji rolled onto his back, thumbing the volume until it all came crashing in on him.

“Genji here,” he greeted, and he promptly regretted speaking as half a dozen voices began to shout in unison, anger, concern, and relief all warring it out for supremacy. To Genji, all it sounded like was a headache.

Winston’s voice, unsurprisingly, won out.

“Where are you, Genji!? What happened to the assassin!?”

Sighing, Genji looked to the sky, imagining that he could see the black smoke lingering among the moonlit clouds. “It was Reaper,” he corrected, and he heard a flurry of gasps sound, a few of the operatives muttering to each other. “And he’s gone.”

Tracer piped up, her voice layered with nothing but concern. “Are you alright, love? He’s a mean one, that.”

Looking down at the mess he was, he couldn’t really justify saying he was in perfect condition. He thumbed the switch on his hip, closing up the bottom of his armor just in case one of them got the bright idea to track his signal and come to him.

“I’m bruised but fine,” he assured them. “But I am hardly what needs attention right now.”

“What do you mean?” Winston asked.

For a moment, he questioned the logic in telling them. The identity of Reaper would no doubt be monumental information for the organization. It would also be debilitating in terms of morale, not even factoring in the possibility of the public learning that one of their war heroes was a defecting traitor.

Genji thought of McCree and the past Reyes and he shared. He thought of his own state, compromised if not sympathetic. He sighed and forced himself to his feet. It was gratifying to see that he only shook a little.

“Genji? Love? What is it?”

The night was cool and he looked out over the city, taking in the carnage still playing out in the streets below.

“It’s Reyes,” he sighed, a taste like betrayal on his tongue. “Reaper is Reyes.”

**Author's Note:**

> woooot and another one bites the dust. check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and feel free to check out my page there if youre interested in havin me write you your own fic. thank you for reading and i hope youll leave a comment to let me know how i did! until next time~


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